A Hand Held in Silence
by Kazzy
Summary: Barbara is injured on an adventure and Ian feels guilty, the Doctor sets him to rights while they wait for Barbara to wake. A bit of fluff, a bit of angst and a bit of romance.


**Spoilers –**None really, but if somehow you've missed the last FORTY-THREE YEARS you might want to check out _The Unearthly Child_**  
Characters – **Ian and the Doctor (first). Barbara as well, and Susan floats around in the background.  
**Timeline – **First Doctor. Similar timeline to _The Aztecs_.  
**Summary – **Barbara is injured on an adventure and Ian feels guilty, the Doctor sets him to rights while they wait for Barbara to wake.  
**Disclaimer – **It's not mine, folks, and sadly never will be.  
**Notes – **Written for the Barbara/Ian ficathon for Morgeil, who wanted:  
(1) Hurt/comfort  
(2) One or either of them having a serious discussion about love with One  
And didn't want:  
(1) NC-17  
(2) post-"Chase" setting

**A Hand Held in Silence**

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Barbara was sleeping peacefully at last, and for that Ian was thankful; she'd been in so much pain, and there was little anyone could do other than let her sleep it off. According to the Doctor, psychic attacks were excruciating, particularly those like the one Barbara had suffered, but it was unlikely to have any lasting effects on her mind.

But the look on her face as she succumbed to the so-called magician's attack still had him in a cold sweat. The absolute agony of her cry when she was felled by an attack he couldn't see, couldn't hope to protect her from. He'd been helpless in this case, while the Doctor had worked his quick wits, proving once again he wasn't quite the frail old man with the wandering mind that he usually portrayed. How he'd managed to trick the 'magician' into freeing all of them, Ian wasn't sure – he'd been focusing on Barbara and her pain. But before he knew it they'd been hurrying back to the TARDIS, Barbara in his arms, and a pale, worried Susan trotting to keep up.

Once back, the Doctor had quickly set Barbara up in the infirmary; running several small alien scanners over her, checking the damage and chirping orders at his granddaughter while Ian waited helplessly to one side. Even now, all the work done and Barbara laying in her drugged sleep, he still felt useless, like a lug weight.

Barbara moaned slightly, twisting her body and throwing her head from side to side, face creased with a frown of pain. He reached out for her but didn't know what he could do to help; his hands fluttered nervously over her, not touching. He was acting like a silly woman, all nerves and anguish; he'd be swooning next.

That wasn't fair. He'd never seen Barbara swoon, nor had he seen her be fluttery and anxious like other women could be. He sometimes thought she was tougher than him, though he'd never admit that to anyone. Which brought him to wonder why she'd fallen under attack, because if he understood correctly – and he wasn't sure he did – the attack had been aimed at all four of them, but he'd felt the barest twinge and neither Susan nor the Doctor had reacted at all that he could see.

Barbara whimpered and pressed the heel of her palm to her forehead, almost as if she were trying to press the pain from her skull. He wanted to reach out and take her hand in his, rubbing her fingers, offering some comfort, but wasn't sure how it'd help her. He'd never been very good at anyone's sick-bed.

"Don't be a fool boy: take her hand." The harsh voice of the Doctor startled him, and he spun to the door. The old man was there, looking for all the world as if Ian were some ignorant school boy who didn't know left from right. "Go on, then," he nodded at Barbara who was becoming more and more restless. "Hurry up, boy!" Quick and impatient, there was an urgency to the Doctor's tone, but Ian was relieved to hear that it lacked a real edge.

Hesitantly, cursing his own failings, Ian took one of Barbara's hands in both of his, grasping it, just holding it for the moment, then began to rub her fingers like he'd wanted to. He was startled when she almost immediately quietened down. There were still too many lines on her face for Ian to believe she was truly in a peaceful sleep, but hopefully it was one she'd get some rest from.

The Doctor checked the one scanner that was still running, keeping check of her brain waves, he'd said. He nodded at the readings and gave Ian an encouraging smile.

"That's it, the worst has passed, now – no need for any worry. She'll be awake soon enough, back keeping us lesser folk in line, hmm?" The Doctor's smile included Ian in some sort of club, where clearly Barbara was free to tell them what to do – which she regularly did, though he had to admit she was a lot more sensible than he generally gave her credit for.

"You just keep hold of her hand, Chesterton, that's it – a nice quiet presence is exactly what she needs right now. Your mind'll be nice and soothing. I've sent Susan to clean out some rooms further down – the young have vigorous minds – which you'll know of course, a career like yours – so she won't be disturbing us. Poor girl," he murmured as his attention switched to Barbara, "all the nerves have been damaged. They'll heal, of course, but she'll be feeling a little raw for a few days. We'll have to be careful what we think around her for a few days." He glared at Ian, as if the younger man would be thinking something potentially dangerous around Barbara. Ian was reminded forcefully of the depth of friendship and affection Barbara and the Doctor had built up over all their travels.

There was a short pause, and Ian's gaze was drawn back to Barbara's face. He longed to reach out and brush away some of the creases of pain that lined her eyes and mouth, to ease the tension in her jaw and to stroke her hair. But he didn't. Such things were inappropriate, particularly in front of an audience. Particularly in front of an audience such as the Doctor.

"It's always the strong ones," said the Doctor, startling Ian once again. The younger man looked up curiously, puzzled by the comment. "It's always the strong ones that fall first. Should seem to be the other way, hmm?" the Doctor said to clarify. "Doesn't always work that way, though, and when it comes to the mind, it's the strong that fall first."

Clearer, but more cryptic than before; that was the Doctor all over, but Ian was too distracted to call him on it as he usually would. Though he suspected this would be one of those times that the Doctor could explain until he was blue in the face and Ian would still be hopelessly lost. There were some things he just wasn't meant to understand – he had other purposes to fulfill on the TARDIS.

"You've seen this before?" Ian asked instead.

"Hmmm? Oh yes, in parts of the universe it's quite common. Never becomes easier, but there's little to be done and less that should be worried about. All we can do is make her comfortable until she's well, and be thankful it wasn't worse."

Ian didn't feel at all thankful, but he felt that complaining would sound childish. "I should have done something!" he said, finding a different outlet for his confusion and worry. He should have protected her. Somehow.

"Like what?" the Doctor fired back, eyes blazing. "Don't be foolish, boy! What could you have done more than you did, than you are doing now? Stop wallowing, Chesterton, and start thinking. Oh, I know it's not easy to see someone you love be attacked in such a manner, but what would she think if she could see you now? She'd be horrified – that's what. Think less of you!"

_Someone you love…_The words reverberated inside of him, making his heart beat faster and his hands tingle where they touched hers. He almost dropped her fingers in surprise, wondering if it were that glaringly obvious to everyone around them, to Barbara. She'd never given any sign of being interested in pursing more than their friendship, so he'd been careful not to let his own desire show – particularly not when they all lived in each others pockets half the time, and the rest of the time they were dependant on the others to survive. It would make life … uncomfortable to say the least. No, some things were better left unspoken.

He changed the topic, steering it a little further away from the matters of his heart, wanting to deal with it at some later time. "Did something similar happen to your wife, Doctor?" he asked, cautiously, because neither the Doctor nor Susan had ever raised the topic of Susan's parents, though some must have existed at some point.

"Wife? Whatever gave you the impression I was married, Chesterton?" the Doctor said sharply.

"Susan is your granddaughter, Doctor," Ian pointed out, reminding the Doctor as obliquely as he could that children and grandchildren must come from somewhere.

"Not all societies rely on the same primitive notions that yours does, my boy! Why, give it a few decades and you'll be looking at a very different world yourself. But, yes, as it happens I was married, of sorts anyway. Am married I suppose, though she won't see me – I caused her too much trouble. No, she lives in peace – never had such things happen to her – it's uncommon on our world."

Ian was surprised and saddened by such a story. So, the Doctor had a wife who wouldn't see him. What a pity; yes the old man was gruff, eccentric, and inclined to run rough-shod over other people's opinions when he thought he was right, but he wasn't cold and uncaring. He doted on Susan and was fond of Barbara, and usually treated Ian with respect. What could have happened to cause such a break-down? But then Ian's parents were an example: both were good people on their own, but he still looked back on his years as a child, when there were stony silences at the dinner table, where no one spoke except to bicker about burnt vegetables and broken stoves.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Doctor," he said sincerely.

"What? Oh. Never mind that; good riddance, I say!" He waved his hand impatiently at Ian.

They lapsed into another brief silence, which was again broken by the Doctor. "It was my daughter – Susan's mother." He cackled suddenly. "That surprises you, yes? You've wondered, the pair of you, haven't you? What happened to her parents? Well, I'm not going to tell you. That's none of your business. But my daughter was attacked once. Very like this, but she came through it just fine. Gave me quite a scare, I must admit. You see your own mortality in your children, you know. Suspect you'll find out sooner or later. And her."

Ian wondered what exactly the Doctor was talking about, what exactly he was referring to, but once again the old man seemed disinclined to clarify.

"Now, young man, you go and find some tea, she'll be waking soon and I dare say she'll be looking for some. Off with you, I'll be right here, watching her. Go on."

Ian gently disentangled his fingers from Barbara's, wondering when they'd become so entwined, and went off to find some tea. He was aware, as he moved away from the infirmary, of the Doctor murmuring something to Barbara. It sounded soothing, and Ian wondered what the old man had up his sleeves that he'd never know about.

Tea was easy enough to find, as all four of the TARDIS travelers were fond of drinking it. It didn't take Ian long to make up a pot and load it on to a tray with three cups and a little lemon (or a citrus-type fruit that wasn't quite a lemon, but was close enough) for Barbara, and some milk and sugar for the Doctor. There were a couple of the tea cakes that Barbara was so fond of, so he added those without thinking about it. Then he carried the tray back to the infirmary.

His heart soared at the sight that greeted him when he arrived. Barbara blinked at him sleepily, clearly just waking from her slumber. Her eyes might not be back to their usual bright selves, but he was pleased to see that they were unclouded by pain. There were still stress lines around her mouth, but the Doctor was right, clearly the worst had passed – she was on the mend; hopefully she'd be back on her feet in no time at all.

"Here we are!" the Doctor said brightly. "Just at the right time, Chesterton. He's been here all this time," he informed Barbara, who turned to him as he spoke, "worrying a hole in the floor of my TARDIS, I might add, only just gone to find you some tea. Not for me, young man," he told Ian, when he noticed the third cup.

She turned, gratefully back to Ian. "Oh, that'd be lovely, thank you!" she said warmly, as Ian brought the tray over and set it on the small table beside her bed, pouring her a cup and squeezing in the lemon.

"Not a problem," he said, passing her the cup, steadying her hands when he saw her shaking as she lifted the tea to her lips. She grimaced at her own weakness and Ian thought of admonishing her, as she was unwell and could hardly be expected to be functioning with her usual grace just yet, but he was too aware of his own failings at the moment and had no care to draw attention to hers.

Neither noticed the Doctor slipping quietly from the room, and soon Barbara was capable of holding her cup on her own, so Ian let his hands fall away, but not without some reluctance. He wondered how many times in the future he'd be able to find an opportunity to link their fingers together, and whether or not Barbara would mind. He hoped not, he found he rather liked it.

"Were you really here all this time?" she asked after several moments as they drank their tea quietly. Ian sipped his tea to give him a moment to answer the question and the dark, soothing liquid slid down his throat, giving him strength.

"I was," he answered, and wondered why two such small words should be such tongue twisters. He'd never felt so exposed before, and he found it thrilling and chilling at the same time.

She smiled, in what appeared to be genuine warmth and pleasure. "I thought you were. Oh, Ian!" she said softly, looking down, not meeting his eyes, and he wondered at her sudden shyness. "It was just awful, everything was so loud it hurt, and I knew you'd be able to stop it, but I couldn't find you. Then you were there, and it was so much quieter." She looked up at him anxiously.

He was reminded of the Doctor's earlier words, about helping her as much as he could, and he wondered afresh what the old man knew.

"I didn't do much," he said with a shake of his head.

"But you did. Thank you." She reached out and he couldn't help but take her hand, glad that she was awake, glad that she was well, glad that he could help even when he didn't know how, even when he felt as useless as he had.

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_Please review!  
_


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